


Greensight

by aryawaterrs (Aryawaterrs)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryawaterrs/pseuds/aryawaterrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lord Stark calls the Reeds to stay at Winterfell, he never finds out about the incest, he stays alive and happy in the south & there is no war. Written for tumblr prompt : Jojen falling for Bran, Meera POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greensight

"Can you tell us the story again father?" Meera spoke to the Lord of Greywater Watch expectantly.

He smiled down at her fondly. Her father wasn't much taller than she, nor was she as young as people oft thought she was. But that didn't stop Meera from asking about the story. The story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

The reason for their journey to Winterfell.

Meera knew it was not often that Crannogmen left the neck, but her father insisted. They were the Stark's bannermen, she knew. And if the Starks called you to their castle, then you went.

Her brother, Jojen glanced at her sideways. "How many times are you going to ask to hear it?"

Meera made a face at him. "You should know," She retorted, "You're the one with green dreams."

Jojen was silent then.

Howland Reed sat up tall and proud on the saddle of his horse. He looked ahead and squinted. "Mayhaps I'll tell you a story later. We've almost reached Winterfell." He pulled the reins on his horse, and quickened its pace.

The two young Crannogmen followed. In the distance they could see a castle.

* * *

 

The castle was like nothing Meera had ever seen before. Greywater was mighty in its own way - its inhabitants could breathe mud and become the same colour as moss - but nothing compared to Winterfell.

Meera was sure the moment she left her father she would get lost.

Or mayhaps her brother would. She had a keener sense of direction than he.

The moment the Reeds had arrived, Lord Stark had introduced them to his household - his children, his wife, and his closest of friends. They were guests here in the castle, he told them. His servants were theirs to command.

She couldn't make sense of this. Her house was _actually_ his to command.

_Lord Stark is kinder than most,_ Meera had thought to herself.

The feast had been a humble affair, much like Ned Stark. He and her father sat at the head of the table, while Meera sat in between her brother and the Lord Stark's youngest daughter, Arya.

All the Stark children were younger than she, except their eldest son, Robb, and Ned Stark's bastard son they called Jon Snow. He had yet to make an appearance at the table. Meera wondered whether his absence had anything to do with Catelyn, the wife of Lord Stark.

Despite this, Meera found she preferred the company of the younger children. Sansa seemed to be prim and proper - the epitome of a high born lady. But she seemed pleasant enough. Arya could not have been more different from her sister, for she rebuked any attempt at civilised conversation and preferred to talk about swords and horse riding with her brothers. Meera found she held a certain respect for the girl for that.

The two younger sons sat on the other side of Jojen. Rickon, the youngest, had been quiet most of the evening, occasionally laughing at jokes made by the adults which he was too young to understand.

Bran sat closest to Jojen. He too, seemed quiet, but from what Meera had overheard from his and Jojen's conversation, he held a fondness for stories, and liked climbing.

It had been decided that the children should be sent to bed after Arya had thrown food at Sansa.

Apparently that was a regular occurrence.

Meera had smiled at that.

The reason for their visit was revealed to herself and Jojen the following day. Lord Stark wanted somebody to hold Winterfell for him in times of trouble. Apparently he was trusting their father with that task. Meera could not think why.

* * *

 

Two years passed until the Reeds visited Winterfell again.

Ned Stark had gone south to play as the King's hand.

Bran Stark had fallen from the top most tower in Winterfell.

The boy was still the deepest of sleeps when they arrived. Catelyn Tully had barely left his bedside.

But Jojen and Meera had been granted permission to visit him anyway.

Meera would consider herself friends with Bran - they had talked on the previous visit to Winterfell, and in the eve they shared the same stories when Old Nan told them to all the children.

But she knew Jojen held a particular fondness for the boy, even more so that she.

She could tell her brother was worried about what he might remember when he woke up. If he woke up at all.

Catelyn Tully sat in the corner of the room as they visited in silence. Her face was blank. Unreachable.

Meera watched her brother as he sat beside Bran, a frown creasing in the centre of his forehead. The same frown he wore whenever he was recalling a dream he had had.

The boy woke a week later.

* * *

 

"Don't think too much," Bran's voice sounded from beside her.

Jojen turned round and smiled at the Stark. He lowered the bow he was holding. "Easy for you to say, my lord."

Meera grinned at her brother. It was rare that he ever made a joke.

Mischief glinted in Bran's eyes. "I bet I could hit the target, if my legs would work. I _bet_ I could beat you."

"You can shoot from horse top Bran," Said Meera cheerfully, before adding, "But even then I'd still be a better shooter than both of you."

"Oi!" Bran and Jojen shouted together. They shared a glance, before laughing.

Meera watched them.

She too, laughed.

* * *

 

"Meera." Jojen sat down next to her, his hands resting on his knees. He was a man grown now, nearly eight and ten.

She looked up at him from the fireside in their quarters. She smiled at him.

"Father wants to betroth you to Bran." He kept his eyes firmly in front of him. The fire reflected deeply off them.

Her smile faded.

"I know," She said.

Jojen looked at her suddenly. His voice broke. "He _will_ betroth you to Bran. I saw it."

"Oh." Jojen's dreams always came true. Always. She frowned. "But you don't want him to?"

Her brother shook his head. His throat would not let any words out.

Meera put a hand on his. "I can say no, if you want me to."

"No." He said, "It would be a great offence to Lord Stark. We'd have to leave Winterfell... I'd have to leave-"

"I'll say yes then." Said Meera, with a simple smile.

Jojen frowned, understanding flashing between his eyes. "If anybody at court were to find out-"

"We're not at court," She interrupted him, her hold on his hand tightened. She smiled affectionately at him. "I love you, little brother."

Jojen kissed her cheek.

* * *

 

It was a week before the wedding when she heard them. She had been passing Bran's chambers, purely out of coincidence. She heard the hushed panting. The low voices.

Meera didn't need a second to guess who was in there with the little lord.

She continued on her way, her face a blush, a smirk toying around her lips.

 

Meera had never seen Jojen happier than in the days she and Bran were married.

 


End file.
